What a fool honesty is.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.

I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basalisks; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Decieve more slily that Ulysses could, And like a Sinon, take another Troy. I can add colors to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages And set the murderous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? Tut! were it further off, I'll pluck it down.

I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.

Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.

Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.